Gravity
by MmeDeMerteuil
Summary: Events from Falanu's childhood and youth, from the streets of Blacklight, where she was born and raised, to where wanderlust eventually brough her. A work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

She tilted her head to a side, staring at the Dunmer woman as she moved slowly in the kitchen. The knife kept hitting the wooden counter, thuds after thuds briskly punctuating each measured gesture: she couldn't stop staring, blinking silently as she sat upon the low stool. One of its wooden legs was shorter than the others, and, as she swayed back and forth, feet dangling one palm above the ground, it made a faint noise, making the whole thing rock while she moved.

The woman, whom Falanu had seen a few times, before, speaking to her parents, was older than her mother, and far less delicate: she was tall, and wrinkly, and had an odd smell, like herbs and poultices. Unceremoniously dropped at her doorstep along with a couple of small wooden crates, after one night spent in a cold inn's bed, she had waited, bewildered, until the woman arrived, only to usher her inside with just a brisk introduction. Meruse Maeba was the stranger's name, or so she'd told her, right before asking her to sit and wait as she cooked. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take very long before the child grew restless: even though astonishingly precise, the knife's movements could not hold her attention for more than a few minutes.

"I don't want to be here. I need to go back home." And did she sound convinced! Firm like only a child could be, she did not move from her spot, still obeying Meruse's request, but looked up at her in expectation, waiting, no doubts, to be accompanied back to her house.

"You can't, child." The healer turned around to glance at her for a moment, before returning to her task, dumping whatever she'd been cutting into a clay pot. "This is going to be home, from now on. We'll prepare your room together after lunch."

"I don't want another home. They're waiting for me." Falanu kept swaying her legs, making the stool hit the wall hard with the vehemence of her movements. _Ooops_. She resolved to sit still for the moment being, at least until a potted plant on the nearby desk attracted her attention; then, kneeling, she propped herself up to look at it, oblivious to the confused look the woman gave her. The room was silent for a while, the knife abandoned upon the counter: only the chattering from outside continued, faint and distant, as the workers returned home for their meal.

"They didn't tell you anything, did they?" Meruse's stunned glance turned into a stiff grimace, and she took a few steps towards the child, to kneel in front of her, studying her. "Girl. Look at me. Do you even know why you're here?" She raised one knobby hand, to gently turn her head away from the plant, and sighed at child's lack of response, still grimacing. "Those damn fetchers... Nobody's waiting for you. Your parents are no longer there, child. You'll need someone to take care of you, and I am in need of a helper. You'll stay with me, from now on." After that, she muttered a curse under her breath, clearly displeased. She'd expected those fools to at least explain what happened: why she would no longer see her parents, killed by a drunkard over a debt he could not repay. Not the details, perhaps, but at least the gist of it.

"I can go there and wait for them."

"No... no, child, you can't." The woman gave another sigh, still kneeling, droopy, wrinkly eyes staring into the girl's stubborn ones. "Your parents died, yesterday. Do you understand?"

Silence. Dead silence, and a confused, suspicious frown on Falanu's face, as she repositioned herself upon the stool. The woman opened her mouth, to repeat the question, but the little girl interrupted her, crossing her legs upon the wobbly seat.

"But what if they return?"

"They won't. Their bodies do not work any more, they can't be repaired. Not ever."

"Oh."

She'd seen children react to death before: it was hard to predict what they might say or think when faced with a loved one's loss, whether there would be tears, or anger, or frozen shock. This one was remarkably calm, and remained deep in thought for a little while, nibbling on one fingernail, still squirming upon the stool. Then, all of a sudden, she appeared to liven up, speaking quickly, and moving even faster, almost knocking the vase off the desk as she stretched her arms.

"So who's going to make clothes for everyone, now? I should make the clothes. Where's my scrib? Is he in one of those crates? And who's going to help me open them, if dad isn't here?" Falanu scurried off, determined, towards the crates, dodging the woman in front of her, who just shook her head before following her, in order to allow her to fish into the wooden containers for her toy scrib. As the flurry of words continued, Meruse found herself questioning her decision to adopt the seamstress' daughter, with all that pent up energy, and the grieving that would certainly follow once she was ready. That girl's fire would need to be channelled into helping her with the house, and the healer job: a selfish reason to adopt a child, perhaps, but she would be fed, and protected, and taught a trade, and that was more than could be said from the other orphans wandering the streets. And there would be a decent amount of coin waiting for her, once she was old enough, a posthumous gift from her parents, in order to build a future for herself, there or elsewhere.

The questions didn't stop, even after the toy was retrieved and the woman returned to her cooking, struggling to give her satisfactory answers. They did not stop as they ate, over clattering redware, and they did not stop as they cleaned up the table, right before heading back to the crates. It was only after that, when Meruse accompanied her to her little room and helped her organize her belongings, that the girl slumped down on the bed, still clutching the toy in her hands, vermilion eyes staring empty at the wall as she made herself small. "I miss mum and dad. I want to go back home."

She refused to speak any more of them, a decision that Meruse respected, figuring she'd at least give the child time to mourn as she saw fit. In a few years, she'd have more questions, without a doubt. In the meantime, one could only hope she'd grow accustomed to the changes quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

They would sit sideways on the windowsill for hours, weaving endless streams of riddles and conundrums, her back to the tuff wall which scraped fabric and skin alike, and his to her chest, eyes half-lidded, one leg dangling from the rough hole in the stone they called a window. Back then, his good quality lamps looked like a great luxury in their eyes: soft lights in vibrant hues, giving the room the appearance of a cheap club, with dark corners, ruined walls covered with bright drapes in reds and purples. An old alchemy lab sat against the wall, with ingredients upon ingredients stacked on the shelves, filling the room with thick, odd scents that lingered long after they left, sticking to their clothes. Daldryn would join them, too, at times, huddled in one corner or another, silently sharpening his blade, and so would Rala, who'd sit across from them and chime in with her own cheerful contribution, but most of the times it was only the two of them, somehow comfortable as they remained perched atop the narrow street.

They were an odd bunch, Daldryn, Rala, Arundiel, and her, the sort of kids shop owners would glare at warily and other children would snicker at – especially Arundiel, who looked remarkably out of place in the crowd, an n'wah, a gangly, golden skinned rascal amidst the ashen people. Peaceful, soft spoken, always smiling, always polite to strangers, though that only barely concealed the trace of superiority in his eyes; whether that was his blood speaking, or simple pride, she could never tell, but she enjoyed his spunk. He would not speak of his parents, but they knew he'd been taken in as an apprentice by a local alchemist, during one of his seasonal trips outside of Morrowind to gather exotic ingredients, and he was eager to learn the trade.

Rala, sweet Rala, would've been well liked, with her pretty face and her friendly, bright demeanour. It was her parentage, instead, that cast a shadow on her: her father had left years before, in order to seek fortune, and had either found more than he had anticipated, or met death instead, for no news of him had reached Blacklight in a very long time. Her mother had taken to meeting with men at odd times of the night, for money, and that, at least, kept them both fed. But jealous wives, bitter from the cold nights their husbands spent 'drinking' away from home, had kept their children away from Rala, whose only fault had been needing food and clothes to survive, and soon she'd found herself alone. Arundiel had introduced her to them, a glimpse of sunlight amidst the others: quick to laughter, she always made sure to keep everyone content.

Daldryn's curse was of a different nature: grim faced, even for a Dunmer, he was brash and wild, and quick to anger. He was an orphan, though old enough that nobody would question his presence on the street. He didn't speak much, and yet it was nearly impossible to ignore his presence, though it did not weigh on their clique like an intrusion. There was safety, in being near him, as thin as he was, safety in his nervous strength, and he enjoyed giving that to his friends; maybe a bit too much, at times. Now and then, he would come bleeding to them, bruised, and they'd know he'd been in a fight. Luckily, back then, he had no real use for that dagger he carried around.

And then, there was Falanu. Her days begun with cutting and stitching, fabric and wounded flesh alike, both jobs which required a firm hand and a watchful eye: then she'd get drunk on knowledge, whether from the thin lips of her stern caretaker, the yellowed pages of a book, or the clumsy tutelage of serjo Atheran, of whom neighbours spoke as if he was a madman. Perhaps it was because of that, after all, that the kids avoided her on the street, thinking her infected from her teacher's brand of madness, and perhaps she truly was; not that it would matter much. Alone and busy most of the time, she'd never learned how to approach boys and girls her age, and that suited her just fine. She had herself, and she had Arundiel, and Daldryn, and Rala.

But when the night grew silent and the lanterns shined at their brightest, it was just Falanu and Arundiel, sitting on the windowsill, his back to her and her hands in his, or running through his soft hair: fair, wispy waves which she envied desperately, tickling his shoulders and her lips. Her own was thicker, red, and as bright as her eyes, cut short, like a boy's, in uneven locks. Daldryn had taken to leaving them, after spending supper and the first hours of vesper with them, and his absence came more and more often. Where he went, they didn't know, but he seemed more relaxed nowadays, and less scrawny, better fed. Rala worked as hard as she could on most nights, scrubbing plate after plate for a meagre salary, far from the vicious rumours and the glares: not enough for one person to survive, but an addition to her mother's efforts that would not come unnoticed. The two of them, instead, would make the most of their free time, whispering secrets, testing each other, as if stretching their legs after sitting for hours in the same spot: now and then, she'd fall asleep on his bed without even realizing it, after they moved from the window, the lanterns fading one by one. He always woke her up before her absence could be noticed, though, with a steaming cup of herbal tea, and nary a word. Mornings were not for words.

"Tall at her youngest, she shrinks through old age, and at the feet of death she merely crawls."

"Easy", she muttered, always too quick in her speech."Too easy. That's a candle, isn't it? Are we still warming up?"

"Shut it", he chuckled, shifting against her. "It was a long day. Fine, I heard this one a few days ago... But it's in rhyme." He scoffed, rubbing his nose. Arundiel often refused to speak in rhyme, protesting that he felt ridiculous: limericks and similar things seemed to embarrass him when he was the one reciting them, much to the amusement of his friends. Sometimes Rala would leave silly little poems for him, lying about under the bowls and boxes on his shelves, and they'd pester him to read them aloud whenever he found any.

"Is it good? If it is, I want to hear it." Falanu grinned at him, as he tilted his head slightly to look up at her, frowning. "Now. We haven't got all night, you know?"

"Fine, fine... there you go..." He cleared his throat, and begun chanting, slowly. His Dunmeris had never been anything less than perfect, and yet he always took his time to share his thoughts, which in itself was an exercise in patience for Falanu. "Four old men sat down to play: they played all night 'till break of day. They played for coin, and not for fun, with separate scores for everyone. When they did come to square accounts, they all had made quite fair amounts. Can you the mystery explain? Why no one lost, when all could gain?"

She opened her mouth, as if to speak, and closed it, frowning, thinking upon his words. For a moment, he seemed proud, the smile returning to his lips as he raised one hand to run his fingertips across her hair, mimicking her movements from a little while before. Falanu, meanwhile, was staring at a lantern, her brow furrowed as she focused to find an answer.

"Silly", she muttered, still lost in thought, a weak bluff despite her attempt to seem nonchalant. "You think you've cornered me. I'm getting there..."

"Do you want me to answer for you?" He was chuckling, now, and so she shook her head vehemently, even more adamant to find a suitable solution to that riddle.

"I'll get there, give me time..."

She barely noticed as he shifted, turning to face her as he sat, his weight resting on one arm and his free hand teasing her jaw, as he drunk in the sight of her focused little frown. She barely noticed, but she shuddered as his fingertips trailed across her lips, gasping as she felt his upon them, a soft caress, his breath warm on her flesh. He took his time before he allowed his cautious touches to truly fade into a kiss: slow brushes of his lips, one hand running through her hair, as both her own twitched, torn between grasping at his shoulders and doing the same, before settling for a compromise, one for each. When he deepened the kiss, she closed her eyes, a soft murmur silenced by his mouth, and when he pulled back, she did not, her heart beating fast in her chest as they stood still. Perched atop the narrow street, like birds, they kissed again, and remained silent for a while, motionless.

"Minstrels..." She cleared her throat, opened her eyes, and tilted her head to a side, to find him staring at her, a touch of amusement in his eyes. "The four men. They played music for coin."

"Correct."

"It's not me you should be kissing, you know", she added, attempting to look calm, though there was a certain nervousness to the way her eyes flew from his mouth, to his cheekbones, and finally back again, avoiding to lock gaze with him. "Rala's pretty. You should be kissing her. It's her you want, and she wants you." A silly thing to say, but she couldn't hold it in: nothing but another half-hearted test, one she desperately wanted him to pass.

"Sometimes you're really quite dumb..." He pulled her away from the window as he stood up, seeming a little offended by her words. She couldn't blame him. They kissed again.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the fourth time she found herself slamming face-first into someone's back or side, and yet Rala kept pulling her along, moving quickly amongst the people as if swimming in the waves. One thing was for sure: her friend may have been good at navigating a crowd, but she was not as good at guiding someone else through it, much to the annoyance of many of the adults gathering in the market street.

"Will you slow down?!"

No response, just laughter as the girl rushed forward, not even turning to look at her, only her mane of silvery hair visible as she kept an iron grip around Falanu's wrist: all she could do was following her clumsily, eyes fixed upon her in order to block out the other people… until, of course, she bumped into someone else, and had to apologize briskly, mercilessly dragged along towards only the gods knew what.

They turned a corner, at which piles of pottery were stacked orderly around a man sitting cross-legged on the ground, waiting for customers, and Falanu's efforts to keep herself away from the delicate wares did not pay off, for she almost crashed into a tall urn. She barely managed to catch it and pull it up before she was carried away, followed by curses and insults, too embarrassed to dare to look behind and make sure no damage had been done.

"Rala! I swear, I'm going to… at least tell me where we're going!"

"Secret!"

Falanu gritted her teeth; her shoulder was starting to get a little numb, and they'd been running for quite a while. She'd even had to end her lessons early, that day, in order to see this wondrous secret Rala kept hinting about, a mysterious smile on her lips, and yet she still refused to tell her what it would be. The streets were starting to grow different, though, buildings in the style of the ancient Redoran ones taking the place of the newer ones: solid shells and curved lines, making the streets a little less narrow, and easier to walk through, especially as the crowd thinned. They were heading towards the docks, where rows after rows of houses and warehouses cluttered the sloping streets, and the little staircases formed a maze… one that would easily bring them to a steep fall and scraped knees and elbows, if Rala didn't slow down at least a little bit.

Only then, she paused, looking around and below, as if searching for something: the break did not last, however, not for long, for soon she cheerfully pulled on Falanu's arm as she resumed her chase, a little slower now that she had spotted their destination. The red haired girl, still with her eyes glued to her friend, hadn't even tried to guess which that might be, and simply allowed the pungent scent of the docks to fill her nostrils. Unpleasant at first, it was unmistakably familiar: salt, wet wood, fish, algae, and the briny, earthy smell that the sun-roasted shells encasing most buildings gave off. The mixture was a strong enough balm to forget about the sweaty dock workers, or her aching shoulder, or the fact that she'd once lived there.

Luck was on their side, for, even with Rala pulling briskly at her, they did not fall: and soon enough they had reached the sea. There, by a little black boat, stood Daldryn, looking unusually cheerful as he glanced at the streets in search for them, and, a couple steps further, Arundiel, facing away from them, to observe the little isles, and, beyond them, the open sea. Rala finally released her from her firm grip, but only to start running and jumping around her, in a little dance.

"We're going on a boat trip! A boat trip!"

With a grin and a shake of his head, Daldryn stepped inside the boat, its shape and dimensions reminiscent of an ancient gondola, already taking the oar in his hands as they all made their way towards him.

"Really? _That's_ what you couldn't tell me? A boat trip!" Falanu said, feigning disappointment. She hadn't stepped on a boat in a very long time, but she could still remember the pleasant swaying of the wood under her feet. That one, though, looked so tiny she had to wonder whether they would all fit inside.

"You didn't tell her?", chimed in Arundiel, puzzled, but vaguely amused by Rala's enthusiasm. The girl, laughing, just shook her head, and started pulling onto his sleeve the way she had done a short while before with her friend's wrist. He didn't fight back much, allowing her to slowly drag him onto the boat, while the red haired girl lagged behind them, her eyes drawn to the ships in the distance, slowly heading towards the nearby docks.

The wooden little thing was cramped, scattered with pooled salt water, which Falanu gingerly brushed away before sitting down. The Altmer boy barely managed to fit in by her side, while Rala kneeled between them, and Daldryn, in front of them, stood with the oar in his hands.

"Where's your big hat, gondolier?" Rala said from below him, making a silly face at the older boy, who smiled to himself, getting the boat out in the water. Immediately, the sensation of floating above the dark water started threatening to lull Falanu into a state of utter relaxation, but she kept alert, making it a point to look elsewhere as Arundiel slipped his arm around her, at least in part in order to be more comfortable, but in a hurried manner, and eyeing the water suspiciously. As Daldryn was far too focused on rowing to come up with a clever reply, they allowed the joking remark to sink comfortably into silence, at least for a while. Then Falanu shook herself, resuming the conversation as if it had never truly stopped.

"Better question. Where does the boat come from? Is it yours?"

"I borrowed it", he answered, his tone made brisk by concentration as he pushed back water. "I'll bring it back after we're done. Why, you don't like it?"

"Don't mind her, Daldryn", Arundiel preceded her, fixing his gaze on him, away from the seemingly endless body of water. "She's just peeved because we kept her out of the loop."

"And you're afraid of the water", was her blunt reply, as she rested her head upon his shoulder. "Why? You can't swim?"

"I can swim, I'm just scared I might have to jump into the water to save you. You're so skinny the wind might swoop you into the sea."

"And then you'd get your fancy clothes and pretty hair wet… Oh, I see now why you're scared."

"Says the one who had to dry up the bench before sitting down on it."

"We've barely even left, and I'm already starting to regret this", grumbled Daldryn, though from below an entertained grin. Rala, still sitting between the bickering couple, silently mouthed something to the Dunmer boy, who burst out laughing, then she spoke, bending her head backwards to look at them.

"He's right, though. You've been putting so much energy in your banter, lately, if I didn't know any better I'd say you two suddenly started hating each other", said Rala, winking knowingly at Falanu, who just raised an eyebrow and tilted her head towards the sea, looking away in an attempt to hide the flush on her cheeks. "Anyway, we're not really going anywhere, we're just enjoying a little time on the water. So if your plan is to keep bickering until we reach the ground again, _don't_. Or else I'll start singing!"

"Which is a good way to make sure I'm going to end up kicking the three of you out of this boat and go back on my own", said their improvised gondolier, half whispering, although it was hard for him to conceal his good mood. The smile that twisted his lips upwards was oddly out of place on such a gloomy face, but the sight was rare enough that even Falanu, underneath her detached demeanor, couldn't help but feel content. And maybe the soothing, almost unnoticeable waves below her helped, too.

"Fine", smiled Arundiel, still somewhat stiff. "We'll be quiet… for now."

As they kept floating aimlessly, the sun gleaming up at them from a thousand blinding spots in the water, it occurred to Falanu that some of their happiest hours had been accompanied by long minutes of silence. Perhaps it was an odd thing, or perhaps it was far more normal that she thought – this, she truly wouldn't know, unaccustomed as she was to the company of anyone who wasn't those three. It was rather pleasant, though, peaceful, in a way only books and warm water could be.

"It's almost sunset…" muttered to himself Arundiel. On most days, he saw sunsets from the inside of his teacher's shop, an orange light seeping through the window, warning them that they'd soon have to light up their lanterns. Compared to that, this nightfall was completely different: the sky was lit up with fire, and the sun, a glowing circle in the middle of it, had already started its long, slow descent. Soon it would sink into the sea, below a curtain of lilac and blue, and it would start growing dark, but by then they'd probably already be back. The weather was still warm, but the days were growing shorter, and it wouldn't be good to stay out at night, not around the docks.

For now, though, Daldryn stopped rowing, and turned around as he sat on the bench he'd been occupying, to face the setting sun, looking pleased despite his frown, his strong, wiry arms bright with the sheen of sweat and droplets of salt water. Slowly, they started talking amongst themselves, but in a hushed tone, as if their words could reach the sun and distract it from its lazy bedtime routine, their eyes still fixed on it, motionless except for the light swaying of the wooden boat.

It was as if their words had no substance, for a while. They spoke of their days, and of the days to come, of what to eat afterwards, until Daldryn's voice chimed in, dark and heavy with smoke. They realized only then that he hadn't been speaking, only listening.

"I haven't done this in a while… I used to come on boat trips with my brother every few weeks. I had almost forgotten how nice the sunset looks from here."

The other three shifted, suddenly unbalanced. He didn't mention his brother often, and that alone, coupled with his absence, had forced them to assumed something bad had happened to him, and probably something rather final. It was Arundiel who broke the silence, this time, shifting his gaze to their friend just as the sun peeked out from below a thick cloud, lifting its shadow.

"I think I could handle leaving the shop early once a month. If we can find a boat."

"Yes, we should do this more often", said Rala, unable to conceal the trace of concern in her voice. "If you'd like that, of course. You would, right?"

He smiled, a subtle movement on his face, and turned back to watch the sky, as Falanu shifted against Arundiel's shoulder, almost soothed into sleep by the waves, showing the others her agreement simply by not speaking. This felt like a good ritual to have, a good thing to do together. For a moment, she asked herself whether they'd still be doing that in twenty years, but didn't stick around to hear the answer. It didn't matter. They were doing it now.


End file.
